


Mistakes Were Made

by edgarallanrose



Series: Season 11 Destiel timestamps/codas [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 11X04 Timestamp, Alcohol, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Castiel's OITNB binge, Dean in Denial, Destiel - Freeform, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Episode s11e04: Baby, Ficlet, M/M, Public Blow Jobs, Public Hand Jobs, Season/Series 11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:17:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5128988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgarallanrose/pseuds/edgarallanrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Timestamp to Season 11 ep 04: Baby.</p><p>"Dean had been sitting on the ancient wooden bar stools of Jimmy’s Roadhouse long enough that his ass was sore. He had been trying to pace himself on the whiskey, but after over two hours at a bar alone you start losing count of how many refills you’ve asked for."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mistakes Were Made

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't help but wonder what exactly Dean had been regretting after that time lapse of him spending the night at Jimmy's Roadhouse. Thus, this was written. And, naturally, got a little smutty ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> This is just a lil ficlet. It is unbeta'd and was written all in one go so please excuse any and all mistakes.
> 
> You can find me on the tumblrverse as [edgarallanrose](http://edgarallanrose.tumblr.com/)

Dean had been sitting on the ancient wooden bar stools of Jimmy’s Roadhouse long enough that his ass was sore. He had been trying to pace himself on the whiskey, but after over two hours at a bar alone you start losing count of how many refills you’ve asked for. There had been a moment where he’d briefly entertained the idea of trying to make a couple bucks at a game of pool, but he wasn’t really in the mood. Truth be told, he was still holding out hope that Heather might miraculously show up.

He checked his watch. Damn. Over three hours and he hadn’t even tried to chat somebody up yet.  He sighed. Some good times he was having. Sam was probably having a better time just eating real food and checking his nerd forums or whatever the hell it is that Sam gets up to.

There was a man at the other end of the bar who kept glancing in Dean’s direction. He was tall with a mop of dark brown hair, and he had what looked like an attempt at some hipster beard growing on the lower half of his face. He was definitely younger than Dean. Dean squinted at the man, trying to figure out if maybe he knew him from somewhere and was supposed to remember his name, when the man looked up and caught his eye. Dean immediately looked down at his glass, embarrassed. He fished his phone out of his jeans pocket just to have something else that would hold his attention.

He had a missed text message from Cas.

**Castiel:** _I_ _'ve come to a realization, Dean._

Shit, maybe he had actually found out something important about this dumb Oregon case. He tapped out a reply.

**Dean:** _What's up?_

After a few seconds his text alert pinged again.

**Castiel:** _I don't think Alex and Piper are very good for each other. They're manipulative and codependent._

Dean frowned at his phone. Had he missed something? He was scrolling back up through their past texts when another message came through.

**Castiel:** _Also I feel bad for Crazy Eyes. And I wish they would just call her Suzanne._

Oh. Dean rolled his eyes.

**Dean:** _I see you figured out the Netflix._

**Castiel:**   _Yes. It's very engaging._

Dean was still snickering at his phone when he heard a deep voice from somewhere on his left.

“Hey, were you waiting on somebody?”

Dean’s head snapped up to meet bright blue eyes. It was young, bearded, hipster man from the other end of the bar. Dean swallowed.

“What?” He managed to croak out.

“Sorry, I just…I, uh, noticed you looking around like you were waiting for someone, but it’s been a while and nobody’s come so…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you,” the man coughed, clearly nervous and back tracking.

Dean didn't know why he took pity on the guy, or if he did know he tried not to think about it too hard, but he fixed his most charming grin on his face and decided to run with it.

“No, no, it’s not a bother at all,” Dean said. The man visibly relaxed, so Dean went on. “I was thinking a friend might show up, but they didn’t.”

“Can’t imagine a friend who wouldn’t want to meet up with you,” he said, smiling with his teeth and leaning his elbow on the bar, inching closer into Dean’s personal space.

At least the conversation was going where Dean had hoped it would. Dean had been playing this game for years, and he was good at it. And honestly, men were _way_ easier than women. Good times might be had after all.

“Really I was just looking for a bit of fun tonight,” Dean shrugged, “but so far, no dice.”

“Let’s see if we can’t change that,” the man said, his voice soft and low as he reached out to put a hand on Dean’s knee. Dean smiled nice and slow and stared up at the man through his lashes, making sure there were no mixed signals about what he wanted. The man smiled back at him. “I’ll buy you a drink.”

\---

The back of Dean’s head hit the wall of the bathroom stall with a hard _thunk._ However, with all the alcohol in his system, and with another man’s head between his legs, he barely felt anything right now.

Dean looked back down at the man who was currently on his knees on a hard, grimy, tile floor. What a sport. He had told Dean his name – David maybe? Daniel? – but Dean could only focus on that dark, ruffled hair. Those blue, blue eyes that would look up at him occasionally as a hot mouth hummed around his cock. Shit. How many times had he dreamed this? Well, maybe not exactly this. Close enough though that Dean could pretend it was exactly what he wanted.

Dean tugged on the man’s hair and grunted a warning,

“Fuck, gonna come. Shit, Ca-“

He cut himself off abruptly. Shit.

The man looked up at him for a second, like he noticed the slip, but he kept his lips wrapped firmly around Dean as he finished. Dean tugged him up by the collar of his jacket and pinned him against the opposite wall. He kissed him, open mouthed and graceless, as he reached into the guys pants to reciprocate the favor. There wasn’t as much tongue in Dean’s dreams, and touches were more gentle and lingering instead of fast and rough, but at least the guy was moaning for Dean like he wanted it. That was enough for right now.

The guy cried out as he came all over Dean’s hand. Dean moved away from him, leaning back against the other wall again as they both caught their breath. Dean wiped his hand off on some toilet paper and tossed it into the toilet. He and the man just looked at each other, breathing heavily for a couple of seconds before he closed in one more time to kiss Dean on the mouth. Then he unlocked the bathroom stall and closed it behind him. After a few seconds Dean heard one of the sinks running.

Dean took a moment before leaving the stall himself. His head was starting to throb. He reached around and felt a bump on the back of his skull. He’d hit that wall a lot harder than he thought. Whoops.

The man was tossing some paper towels in the trash when Dean finally emerged. He walked over to Dean, smiling, and toyed with collar of Dean’s flannel as he said,

“We can go back to my place if you want.”

Dean was coming down from his high way faster than he usually did. It didn’t help that he felt like crap on a stick. He didn’t really have to think about his answer.

“No. I mean, I can’t. My ride is supposed to pick me up here in about an hour.”

They guy backed away and looked at Dean with those large, blue eyes for a long enough time that Dean almost started to regret his answer. But the guy just shrugged and said,

“Suit yourself. Have a good night, Dean.” The man checked his appearance in the mirror one more time then left the bathroom.

Well, now Dean felt like an asshole. The guy had remembered his name when he hadn’t even paid attention to his. Probably for the better, Dean reasoned.

Dean went over to the sink to actually wash his hands instead of just wiping them off, and he looked up at his reflection in the mirror.

God, he looked even worse than he felt. His lips were swollen and red and his cheeks a bit pink from the beard burn. He splashed his face with some water and hoped it would calm down before he had to see Sam. He tried to fix his hair back into place but maybe that was a lost cause for tonight. This would have to do.

By the time he walked back into the bar, the man had already left. Dean wasn’t sure why he was disappointed; he couldn’t even remember the poor bastard’s name.

Dean sat back on his stool at the bar and asked the bartender for some tap water. He looked at his phone for a lack of something better to do and saw four missed texts from Cas. Something uncomfortable stirred in Dean’s gut, but he couldn’t figure out exactly what it was. Shame about what he’d just done? Guilt that he’d been thinking about Cas the whole time he was doing it?

There was a lump in Dean’s throat now, but he swallowed it down with the glass of water and opened his messages from Cas.

**Castiel:** _I'm moving on to season 2._

****Castiel:****   _I know I'm supposed to be resting and healing, but I can't help but think this would be even more enjoyable if you were here to share it with me._

 **Castiel:** _Dean? Are you still there?_ ** _  
_**

****Castiel:****   _I apologize. You're probably asleep. Goodnight, Dean._

Suddenly, Dean felt sick. What was he doing? He shouldn’t have even been thinking about Cas that way, let alone trying to live out his stupid fantasies with some stranger. Cas was a good thing in his life, his best friend, and damned if hadn’t ruined every good thing in his life so far.

He darted a quick glance around the bar, like there could possibly be someone here that would go and tattle about what he’d done to Sam. Then Sam might tell Cas and Cas would never speak to him again. Christ, he had been so reckless. He would never jeopardize losing Cas over something ridiculous like these feelings that he couldn’t seem to get rid of. He would learn to, though. He could hide them, for Cas’ sake.

There was no one at the bar who he knew; there was hardly anyone at the bar at all. Dean let out a breath and put his head down on his folded arms. If a tear or two fell from his eyes, nobody could tell.

The next time he looked up the sun was streaming through the dirty blinds on the front windows of Jimmy’s Roadhouse. Dean settled his tab and stumbled out of the bar, blinking in the glare of the sunlight and rubbing his eyes. When his eyes finally adjusted he was thankful to be greeted by the familiar sight of Baby. He managed to clamor into the front seat and groaned. He leaned back so his head could relax against the backrest; the cool leather soothing the throbbing lump that stubbornly remained.

“Mistakes were made,” he mumbled. “Mm-hmm.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, thanks for reading! Feel free to validate my existence with kudos and comments. 
> 
> Find me over on tumblr dot com (if you wanna). edgarallanrose.tumblr.com


End file.
